


Bruised, not broken

by Perching_Owl



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Making Out, Seawoll owns a cat, Seawoll owns at least one (1) cable sweater, Spoilers for False Value, Spoilers for Lies Sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perching_Owl/pseuds/Perching_Owl
Summary: He walks into the kitchen first, checking Felix' bowl, but both food and water are still there. Another indicator of coming back way early. There is no sign of Felix, but he hasn't looked inside the living room yet. For a moment he thinks about eating, but the thought of food makes him nauseous and so he forgoes the fridge. His gaze falls on the calendar on the fridge though. Fuck. In Thomas' sprawling handwriting it says 'dinner'.Alex stares at the cursive, before closing his eyes, rubbing over the bridge of his nose. Shit. He forget about their date. Why the fuck has he forgot their date? Oh yes, because of the fucking long day he had. For a moment his thoughts drift back to the bloody case, the interview, which has gone down to shit faster than he could have said 'bollocks', and the bruised ribs he carried away from that.
Relationships: Thomas Nightingale/Alexander Seawoll
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	Bruised, not broken

**Author's Note:**

> So, we went a bit crazy with Seagale in the recent days ... it happens (we hope it has passed now, but we really just wanted a second page of Seagale). Kudos to the whole server, but especially to [Nantai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nantai/pseuds/Nantai), [Coraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraine/pseuds/Coraine) and of course [Margot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margot_Lescargot). 
> 
> This one happened by accident - meaning, I drew from my prompts ("bruised ribs") and couldn't let it go, especially after I realised we had quite a bit of hurt Nightingale and no Seawoll - time for a little role reversal. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

There are shit days. And then there are the real shit days. Those days when nothing gets better, when every incident only adds up, when he just wants to crawl back into bed and not get up for another week. 

The stairs up to his flat are the final burden he needs to overcome. Every step is painful, his ribs throbbing, and he grimaces as he makes it up the final steps. Reaching the top, he takes a deep breath, immediately regretting it as his ribs protest. Damnit. 

Fishing the keys out from his pocket sends another jolt of pain through his chest, making him inhale sharply. Fuck. The pain ebbs away in waves, with every shallow breath. Should they even hurt so bloody much after the doctors had given him painkillers? Then again they only told him to keep moving, do some breathing exercises, and take the meds. 

At last, when the pounding has gone to just a dull throb, he opens the door and takes a few steps inside. Finally home. Even though it's just after three, so early for him. After closing the door he strips off his shoes, pushing them off without care to where they land. His coat follows, not being hung up on a hanger, instead simply thrown over the wardrobe. 

He walks into the kitchen first, checking Felix' bowl, but both food and water are still there. Another indicator of coming back way early. There is no sign of Felix, but he hasn't looked inside the living room yet. For a moment he thinks about eating, but the thought of food makes him nauseous and so he forgoes the fridge. His gaze falls on the calendar on the fridge though. Fuck. In Thomas' sprawling handwriting it says 'dinner'. 

Alex stares at the cursive, before closing his eyes, rubbing over the bridge of his nose. Shit. He forget about their date. Why the fuck has he forgot their date? Oh yes, because of the fucking long day he had. For a moment his thoughts drift back to the bloody case, the interview, which has gone down to shit faster than he could have said 'bollocks', and the bruised ribs he carried away from that. 

He should probably call Thomas, tell him, today is bad, he is tired, even injured, so he probably is not going to be good company - for dinner and whatever else they planned afterwards. But work has kept them both busy, neither of them staying over at the other one's place, even though they both have keys, and they have scheduled this evening for what feels like ages. 

Cancelling something that long-standing leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, a wave of guilt rushing through him. He can't call of their date. It wouldn't be fair to Thomas since he is looking to their dinner. After all he has put it on Alex' calendar. 

And he wants to see Thomas as well, spend time with him. Because that is what relationships are about and his are usually lacking, aren't they? Fuck. He really doesn't want to cancel. Judging by the lack of place beneath the dinner they at least wanted to meet at his place. Or simply had not decided on one. Thank fuck for small mercies. 

Well, he should get out of these clothes at least. Maybe lie down for a while. Rest. He makes his way to the bedroom, steps heavy. There he strips off his shirt, followed by his trousers, reaching for the dark cable sweater Thomas has given him for Christmas last year. After that he puts on the softest pair of jeans he owns. Bending down to pulls his trousers up sends another sharp pain through him, and he curses. Shit. And he is exhausted. 

Slowly he makes his way to the living room, towards the couch and drops down on it, forgetting his ribs for a moment. Either the pain or the cursing leaves him breathless, and he leans back into the soft cushions of the sofa. His breathing evens out, and he exhales, deliberate, not too deep, not too shallow, just enough so his ribs stop from aching for a fucking second. 

He isn't quite sure how long he has set on the sofa, but soft paws on wood make him open his eyes. Felix has appeared from wherever he had been sleeping, confidently striding towards the sofa, brushing along the coffee table, tail alert. He jumps up, barely fitting on the sofa beside Alex -big boy that his cat is- but quickly climbing onto his stomach, where he stretches, kneading the fabric, and then curling up there, a satisfied purr coming from him. 

Alex begins to pet Felix, running his hand through the soft, fluffy fur. The purring intensifies, and he relaxes into the sound and heavy ball of warmth, tension leaving him. He drifts off, exhausted and painkillers doing the rest.

~*~

Alex drifts awake when he hears footsteps in the flat, and feels Felix leap of his stomach. His paws dig into his injured ribs as he jumps, pain cursing through his body again, and he needs to hold himself back from curling in on his ribs. Instead he stays where he is, falling still and waiting for the pain to run its course before exhaling, slow and careful.

Just as he is able to breath without fearing a groan falling from his lips, Thomas crooks his head into the living room, smile on his face, 'There you are, Alexander. I was almost under the impression you hadn't arrived yet.' 

He steps completely into the room, leaning down to pick up Felix, who meows, but settles against Thomas' chest, especially as he is tickled beneath the chin. It warms Alex' heart, seeing the two of them together, his cat and his- boyfriend? Significant other? Partner? One day he should decide on a term instead of running through a whole bloody thesaurus in his head. 

Thomas focuses back on him, purring cat secure in his arms, and he crooks his head, 'Long day?' 

'The fucking longest,' Alex' responds, voice rough from sleep. Shit, he sounds wreaked, exhausted even, and this when they said dinner. 

'You are in luck then – Molly insisted on cooking for us. Apparently she misses you and wants to remind you what you are missing out on if you don't come over for meals.' 

'Does she now?' 

'Yes, she sends her regards – and her roast. I've been giving instruction on how long to heat it in the oven as well.' 

'That sounds good,' Alex smiles, 'how about you get on with it then? I'm up in a moment.'

Thomas turns, cat still in his arm, cuddling Felix as he walks out of the living room, almost a spring to his step. With care Alex breathes a sigh of relief. Thank fuck Thomas had not picked up on his ribs - or anything being wrong in general. Besides they are just his ribs, and not even broken, just bruised. He lets his head drop back, exhaling. Damnit to fucking hell either way. With careful movements he stands up, grimacing before following Thomas. 

Thomas is moving around in the kitchen, just having put the roast in the oven. Being used to Alex' place, he is already putting cutlery on the kitchen table and getting the drawer right on first try. Fucking hell, he missed him during the last days. After all they hadn't had much time with Thomas sorting out the last paperwork reinstating Peter and him neckdeep in a murder investigation. He steps closer, pushing of the doorframe against which he has leaned, a slight twinge running though him, and reaches for Thomas. 

Thomas stops, turning towards him, eyebrow raised and smile playing around his lips. He steps closer into Alex' space, slinging his arms around Alex' waist –thank fuck not any higher- and leans upwards for a kiss. He leans down in turn, responding to the kiss, his hand coming up to brush through Thomas' silky hair, who leans into him. 

Thomas' hands move beneath his sweater, hot against his skin, moving up, and he is fast moving towards that area, which is tender and warmer than it should. Alexander moves away, gently extracting himself from Thomas. 

'Food first,' he responds, his brain throwing the first thing out, which had come to his mind, and he wants to curse himself as the thought of food is still leaving him queasy. 

'Pity, we could have used those ten minutes to work up an appetite,' Thomas smiles, but moves away from him. 

'You are in a good mood,' Alex says, breathing an internal sigh of relief. 

'We finally have hired some builders for the renovations – though I should say Peter has found some. I don't know how he has done it, but I am grateful nonetheless.' 

'That's great. I knew Miriam had trouble with finding someone when they expended their house.' Conversation flows between the two of them, nothing deep, just the usual exchange of what has happened recently in their lives. Alex learns of Thomas' recent lesson plans, both for Abigail and Peter, Foxglove's most recent portraits, and Molly's most adventures into Asian cuisine. In turn Alex tells of Miriam finally being off desk duty, Guleed's planned meeting with her finance's parents, and Carey's recent long holiday in Portugal, visiting his partner's family. 

The conversation continues over their roast dinner, and it smells delicious as it is usual for Molly's cooking, but the queasiness in his stomach still hasn't abated completely, leaving him to push the vegetables and roast around his plate. If Thomas notices, he doesn't comment, even after dinner, when Alex tries to get rid of the rest on his plate covertly. 

Of course, since Molly had cooked, there are leftovers, and while Thomas fills the sink with water to wash the plates, Alex puts them away, cringing as he needs to bend down as one needs to go into the freezer. He straightens up, stealing a glance at Thomas, who has started washing the plates. SoAlex takes a tea towel, beginning to dry the plates, standing close to him, their arms brushing. 

Silence falls over them while they work, which allows for Alex' mind to wander. His ribs are dully throbbing, and he should probably take some painkillers. For the moment though he just wants to enjoy the time with Thomas, even when it is just something to awfully domestic as washing the dishes. 

He glances to the side, taking Thomas in. Warmth settles in his chest as he sees the immaculate shirt pushed up to his elbows, hair slightly tousled after a long day, and the hint of a smile on his face, nowadays much more present. He has become more settled in the last few months, after the shit that went down during operation Jennifer. But planning for the future has done Thomas good – starting with creating lesson plans, over the renovation at the Folly, to supporting Molly in helping Foxglove settle in. 

Without the strain of the clusterfuck that was operation Jennifer they have more time for each other now. Or should have whenever the job is not interfering. Such as murder and attempted murder case going south in the span of an interview. A twinge runs though him again, and he shifts, trying to ease some of the pain. 

'You are quiet today,' Thomas states, handing him a glass. 

'Just long day,' he responds, mouth suddenly going dry. 'Interview didn't go well. Suspect went off.' He doesn't mention the screaming, the kicking, the drugs involved, and the motive. So he asks, 'Was you day alright?' 

Reaching for the last of cutlery, Thomas hums, then flashes him a quick grin, 'Good so far. You could always make it better.' He reaches out then, runs a hand over Alex' arms, then up before he leans forward, grinning, and Alex can't help himself, but not respond to that. He leans down, capturing those lips between his, and if he is turning more carefully into Thomas', his partner doesn't notice. 

Thomas' hands move to his waist again, pulling them close, fingers brushing over the naked skin just over the rim of his trousers. He buries his hands in Thomas' hair, angling him to kiss him more thoroughly. 

Thomas' hands tighten around his waist, pulling him closer, before his hands wander lower, giving Alex's arse a nice squeeze. Heresponds in kind, hands slipping down towards Thomas' shirt, unbuttoning it, their lips not parting for long. Alex can't denial he has missed Thomas, missed making out lazily, taking their time to build that passion between them. Thomas' kisses chase away the heavy thoughts from earlier, the exhaustion he has been feeling, the unsatisfactory close to the case.

The tea towel drops to the floor at some point, long forgotten as neither of them give it any thought as they continue to make out. Alex bites back a curse as Thomas' leaves his lips alone to place kisses and licks along his throat. His hand in Thomas' hair tightens involuntarily, and he relaxes his grip at once, even though it earns him a pleased hum. 

Thomas' hands drift underneath his sweater again, running over his back, and Alex pulls him away from his throat to kiss him again, slight breathlessness to his breathing. Their lips meet again, and Thomas grins into it, broad and wide, and then pushes Alex forward into the direction of the bedroom. Alex pulls him along, trying to undo the shirt buttons at the same time as the navigates his flat to the bedroom. 

Their touches grow more insistent, their kisses rougher, and really in hindsight he should have seen it coming, but he had been high on Thomas and their kisses, the promises of what was to come, and his ribs hadn't protested during their intense kissing in the kitchen. 

His back connects with the wall, harder than either of them had planned as they stumble out from the kitchen. Pain erupts from his side as his bruised ribs are jostled. It runs through him, his entire back, his front feeling like he had been kicked by an elephant, knocking all air from him. 

'Fucking shit,' he wheezes, trying to take a breath, but failing. Shoving Thomas away, he curls one arm around his midsection, leaning back against the wall behind him. Oh, for fuck's sake! 

'Alex!' Alarm swings in Thomas' voice. His hand comes up to support him, though hovering uncertainly before settling on his elbow. 

Alex tries to form words as he breathes through the spasm, deliberate breaths, shallow, trying to avoid any more strain on his bruised ribs. 'Fuck,' he whispers again. It is more of an exhale though. 

'What is going on?' Thomas asks sharply, hand tightening on Alex' elbow. 'Do you need an ambulance? Or can you make the drive to the hospital?' 

Alex shakes his head, leaning against the wall, 'Give me a bloody sec.' 

'If you are alive until then – come on, let me,' Thomas reaches for his sweater, swatting his arm away, and Alex lets his arm drop. He pushes the sweater up, thereby forcing Alex to stand straighter. Another twinge runs through him, making him close his eyes for a split second. Fuck. He forces his eyes open again to see Thomas taking in his side. It's a motley of angry reds and violets, covering the lower three ribs on his left. 

'Do you have your phone on you?' Thomas asks, grey eyes meeting his, his mouth a thin, unhappy line, brows drawn together. 

Alex frowns, trying to remember where he left, then says, 'No.' 

'Good,' Thomas responds. A whisper of impressions brush past him, something that feels like what Alex associates with magic, but is never quite sure about. Thomas puts his hand against Alex' side, coldness flooding it as if Thomas is pressing an ice pack there, cooling the heated skin. He groans as relief washes over him.

'You do realise I would have loved to hear that sound under different circumstances,' Thomas says, expression grim. 

Alex closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. 'I'm sorry for ruining our evening.' 

'That's not what I meant,' Thomas responds, exhaling. His shoulders sag, but his hand remains steady on his side, 'What happened?' 

'I told you the fucking interview went south, didn't I?' Alex responds. 'Shitloads south. We didn't realise the subject was on drugs when she was brought in. She didn't take well to our line of questioning, and well, since she was on drugs, she went off like fury right out of hell. At least we got her down for two accounts of assaulting a police officer.' He takes a shallow breath in, exhaling carefully. 

'You've been to the doctors then?' Thomas ask. His thumb brushes over the heated skin in circles, still cool with magic. 

'Yes, they had a look at it.' 

'Are they broken?' 

'No, just bruised.' 

Thomas nods. His shoulders relax more, 'Why didn't you tell me though?' 

'I, ah.' Alex starts, breaking off. In hindsight it had been a shit idea not to tell Thomas beforehand. But they hadn't seen each other in ages. Which is a completely mushy and stupid reason. In hindsight. It had felt like perfectly sound logic just minutes before.

Thomas raises an eyebrow. 

'We hadn't see each other in a while.' Alex isn't sure if his cheeks feel heated because of the temperature in the room or if it has anything to do with that confession of his. 

'I still could have come over – and would have done so. In fact I very much would have love to. Occasionally everyone needs some looking after,' Thomas leans forward, giving him a small peck on his lips. 'Do you need any painkillers?' 

'I should take some.' 

'Alright. How about we go to bed?' 

'Yes, bed sounds nice. Are you going to come, too?' He tries to hide the apprehension he is feeling, if their disagreement is going to continue, if he has fucked up too much with this, if Thomas will tell him to deal with it himself. 

'Of course,' Thomas responds though without hesitation. 'Now, as much as I love to see you in that sweater, you might want to change into pyjamas. Do you need help with that?' 

'No, I can manage.' 

'Good, I will get you painkillers and water.' 

He turns, but Alex catches him by the shoulder, and Thomas moves back to him again. 

'I'm sorry about today,' Alex starts, then falls silent. 'I'm going to make it up to you.' 

Thomas shakes his head, 'You do not need to be. We both know how unpredictable work is. It's alright.' A soft smile plays around his lips, 'And now get changed, you should rest.' 

'Okay,' Alex nods, then makes his way towards the bedroom. He finds Felix has already beaten him to it, curled up on the bed, and dozing. Changing into his pyjamas takes longer than usual, and when he does, his ribs are hurting again. He sits down next to Felix for a moment, catching his breath, and brushing through that soft fur. 

The cat blinks his eyes up at him, a yawn showing off his teeth, and he rolls on his back, beginning to purr loudly as Alex scratches his belly. He almost doesn't hear Thomas stepping into the room, only when his partner steps onto the loose floorboard halfway between bed and door, Alex looks up. 

Thomas is holding a glass of water and painkillers, first pressing the latter in Alex' hand, then the former. 'There you go.' 

Felix looks up when he isn't petted anymore, tail swishing, but quietens down as Thomas picks up where Alex has left off. The purring continues as Thomas long fingers gently rub that spot right below Felix' chin, then moves downwards to his chest, just where his cat absolutely loves pets and rubs, indulging him. And Alex knows he turns mushy when his cat gets along with people, but it appears to be especially bad with Thomas'. So he takes his painkillers instead of staring at these two, who have stolen his heart. He drinks the glass, even though he can't drain it in one go, his lungs protesting whenever he doesn't get enough oxygen. 

Thomas glances at him, when he finishes his water, 'Let me take those – and give me a moment to change. Don't lie down just yet, sweetheart.' 

Alex nods, watching Thomas' back as he heads for the kitchen, and he turns to Felix on the bed, who by now is stretching and yawning before walking over and rubbing against Alex' outstretched hand. He meows, gaze turned toward the kitchen. 

'Yes, he's pretty great, isn't he?' Alex mutters, hand running over Felix' back. 

Felix meows in response, demanding more pets by rubbing his head against Alex' hands. 

When Thomas steps back into the room, he starts to take off his shirt, and Alex can't help but admire the muscles moving as he strips off his clothes. Without his ribs hurting like shit he would have been over there already, tracing those muscles with hands and tongue. 

Thomas turns, reaching for his own pyjamas, stored safely in one of the drawers, right next to Alex' own. He shrugs it on, then continues with his trousers. Straightening up, he notices Alex' appreciate gaze, and steps over, shaking his head slightly, 'Not with those bruises. From experience I know sleeping upright is easier for your ribs, so let's get you settled.' 

He gets on the bed, putting the pillows up against the headboard, before sitting against it and opening his arms, 'Come on then.' 

'You sure about this?' Alex asks, but he stands up, moving carefully onto the bed and settling against Thomas. It takes a moment for them both to find a comfortable position, but when they do, Alex has to admit, it is keeping pressure of his chest, along with it being really fucking comfortable in Thomas' arms. He sighs, tension leaving him, and Thomas' hand sneaks under his top. 

He feels the same whisper from before and then Thomas' cool hand settles over his ribs. The cold seeps into his heated skin, easing some of the strains on his muscle. 

'Okay, I don't care if you are using magic right know because this feels fucking good,' he groans. 

Thomas' chuckles manifests in movement against his back and a lovely sound in his ear. Then a soft kiss is placed on his temple, 'This is the most efficient way to ice an area if you are a practitioner.' 

'How long can you keep it up?' A yawn escapes him, and he feels his eyes getting heavy. 

'A while – long enough to help with the swelling. And now, get some rest.' 

Alex' hums, and even though his ribs are being cooled, a warmth has settled in his chest. With one last effort before he finally drops off to sleep, he mutters, 'I love you.' 

'I love you too,' Thomas' responds fondly, and Alex sighs, falling finally into an exhausted sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and constructive criticism is appreciated and fuels my ideas for fics, so I'll be eternally grateful for those.


End file.
